Goldwhiskers (28 page)

‘Indeed,' said Sir Edmund.

‘May we see them?' asked Squeak.

‘If you wish,' said Matron. She directed them to a staircase next to the drawing room, where a fire crackled invitingly in the grate. ‘Breakfast will be ready shortly.'

Leaving Sir Edmund warming himself by the fire, the trio of spy mice tiptoed quietly upstairs to the orphanage's sleeping quarters.

Located in the tree's upper branches, the dormitory was a long, narrow room painted a cheery yellow. Blue and white checked curtains covered the knothole windows, through which slanted the early morning sunshine. Along the walls were rows and rows of cosy nests lined with warm flannel, each containing a sleeping orphan.

‘There's Farthing, in the corner!' whispered Squeak. ‘Look, he's crept under the covers with Twist, the little angel.'

‘And there's Dodge – and Smudge from Scotland Yard!' said Glory.

The mice regarded the sleeping mouselings with satisfaction. ‘They'll be much better off here than on the streets,' said Bubble. ‘A fine place, Nibbleswick.'

The three of them tiptoed back downstairs again.

‘Ah, there you are,' said Sir Edmund. ‘And how are our young charges?'

‘Out like little lights,' reported Squeak.

‘Visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads, no doubt,' added Matron. She bustled across the carpet to a set of sliding doors and slid them open. In the room beyond stood a long table heaped with food. A Christmas cracker lay across every plate. ‘Buckingham Palace sent over their very best,' said Matron approvingly. ‘They always do, on Christmas.'

Glory's stomach rumbled. She hadn't had much to eat here in London so far. She sniffed the air expectantly. It smelled of wonderful things. Sugar and spice and evergreen. Just like Christmas.

‘I'll light the tree, then, and we'll call the orphans to breakfast,' said Matron.

She trundled back to the drawing room. A Christmas tree – the tip of a pine branch, actually
– stood at the far end. It was covered with birthday candles. As Matron struck a match and lit each one, the bright strands of foraged ornaments and tinsel began to glitter and glow in the reflected light.

‘Pretty!' cried a small voice behind them.

The mice turned to see Farthing standing on the carpet. He was sucking on his tail. On one side of him stood Twist, and on the other, Dodge.

‘Happy Christmas, mouselings,' said Sir Edmund.

The trio regarded him shyly.

‘Santa Paws?' asked Farthing, staring wide-eyed at the elder mouse's silvered fur.

Sir Edmund chuckled. ‘Sorry to disappoint you,' he said, shaking his head. ‘Though I did bring a few presents.' He gestured towards the tree and the little ones scampered off.

Squeak leaned over to Glory. ‘Did I tell you my parents are planning to adopt Farthing?' she whispered.

‘Hope you have plenty of mops back at the Savoy,' said Glory with a smile, pointing to the puddle rippling out across the carpet beneath the excited mouseling.

‘Oi! The little dickens nicked my watch,' said Bubble indignantly, patting his chest. Next to the
tree, Twist swung the strap cheekily back and forth.

‘He's got quick paws – you can say that much for him,' said Sir Edmund, chuckling again. His laugh quickly turned to a harrumph as he realized his own watch and its silver chain were missing as well. He held out a stern paw. Twist sidled over to him and placed the pilfered items in it.

‘I'll be keeping a sharp eye on you,' Sir Edmund warned him. He leaned closer and added with a twinkle, ‘If Matron here can steer your education in a more productive direction, we'll be recruiting you for spy school in a few years. You too,' he said to Dodge. ‘Shame to let natural talent go to waste.'

Dodge smiled and ducked her head.

‘Oh, Glory, I almost forgot,' said Squeak, pulling a small parcel out of her mitten-thumb backpack. ‘The doormouse at the Savoy passed this to me as we were leaving. It came by overnight courier with instructions to give it to you on Christmas morning.'

Glory looked at the parcel curiously.
For Morning Glory Goldenleaf, the bravest mouse I know
, read the tag.

‘Oh, my,' she said. It was from Bunsen.

‘Aren't you going to open it, Miss Glory?' asked Twist.

Dodge and Farthing crowded closer as she untied the ribbon and tore off the festive paper. Underneath was a small blue leather box tooled in gold.

‘Pretty!' piped Farthing.

Glory opened the box. Inside, nestled in a scrap of matching blue velvet, was a tiny ring set with an exquisite diamond.

‘Looks like someone has her own crown jewels,' said Squeak, nudging Bubble.

Glory took the ring out of the box. Beneath it was a note in Bunsen's spiky scrawl.
Dear Glory, I love you with all my heart
, it said.
Will you marry me?

‘Oh, my,' said Glory again, and turned a most Bunsen-like shade of pink.

Bubble and Squeak and the orphans looked at her expectantly. So did Sir Edmund and Matron. Glory slipped the ring over her paw. It fitted perfectly.

‘What are you going to tell him, Miss Glory? What's your answer?' Twist was bouncing up and down with excitement.

Glory smiled at the mouseling. Her eyes shone as bright as the diamond that adorned her paw. ‘It's the middle of the night back in America,' she said firmly. ‘Bunsen will have to wait for his answer.'

Matron herded the three orphans into the dining
room and went to wake the others. As Bubble and Squeak and Sir Edmund took their places at the breakfast table, Glory gazed down at her paw. The engagement ring sparkled in the reflected firelight like the star on top of the Christmas tree.

‘
Lux tenebras exstinguit
,' she whispered to herself, and went in to join her friends.